


Cool Story, Bro

by Hatteress (goddammitstacey)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Failwolf Friday, M/M, Magic and Curses, Monster of the Week, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-16
Updated: 2013-03-16
Packaged: 2017-12-05 11:06:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/722512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goddammitstacey/pseuds/Hatteress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one where Stiles adopts a cat and Derek sings Taylor Swift.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cool Story, Bro

**Author's Note:**

> Round one of my prompt cleanout wherein [ten prompts were voted in to be combined into one fic](http://hatteress.tumblr.com/post/44809870669/hatties-epic-prompt-cleanout-round-1-closed).
> 
> Dear God, I don't know what I was thinking. ~~Or why I still have two more of these planned.~~

Derek parks two blocks down. The way he figures it, just because the Sheriff knows about him and Stiles, it doesn't mean he needs to be hearing about the Camaro parked in the Stilinski driveway whenever he's on late shift. It's courtesy; decency, even. Making the climb up to Stiles' window and pausing there to watch the way Stiles stretches his arms up over his head, bowing over the back of his computer chair in an obvious effort to work off the stiffness of an afternoon of research, that's...not.

Stiles is in a thin t-shirt and loose track pants, one foot pulled up onto his chair in a way that should be uncomfortable, except Derek knows from experience— _Jesus_ —just how naturally flexible Stiles is. Stiles has one hand up to his own mouth, pulling absentmindedly at his bottom lip and it's not even slightly fair how much that hits Derek like a punch, low down and _hot_.

Then Stiles shifts, leaning forward to type, double click and-

[ _You don't know that I know_ _  
_ _You watch me every night..._ ](http://hatteress.tumblr.com/post/44920444015/im-ah-im-doing-research-yes-research-oh-god)

Derek snorts and Stiles cranks the volume, swinging around in his computer chair. He's all sprawling limbs and shit-eating smirk and fuck Derek's life, he can _feel_ his lips ticking up even as he rolls his eyes.

"You'll wake the neighbours," Derek says, swinging over the windowsill.

Stiles grins. "It's still early."

Derek turns to close the window behind him anyway, just as the song hits its chorus and- _wow_. Just wow.

[ _I get off on you!_ _  
_ _Getting off on me!_ ](http://hatteress.tumblr.com/post/44920444015/im-ah-im-doing-research-yes-research-oh-god)

"Seriously?" He turns back to find Stiles doing air-guitar and wonders again why the hell he's even in this relationship.

"Oh please," Stiles says, somehow managing to _head-ba_ _ng_ his way over to Derek. "Don't deny you love this, the band's called [_Halestorm_](http://media.tumblr.com/15eb9d6f9cdcfbd67f51585834d96d11/tumblr_inline_midbza9Lgo1r6gvng.png)."

Derek pastes on his best unimpressed look but doesn't stop himself from being reeled in and kissed hello. He's not made of fucking _stone_. He is, however, a werewolf, which is why he pulls away after a moment and steps over to turn the freaking music down. Hard-rock guitar riffs may be awesome, but they're hell on super hearing.

"You monster," Stiles says. "You probably listen to Taylor Swift, don't you?"

Derek opens his mouth to retort but before he can get a word out there's a soft nudge at his leg, followed by a-

_Oh Jesus Christ_. Derek looks down.

[The cat's small](http://media.tumblr.com/283301779f8621e56e2f6e3edd169fa3/tumblr_inline_mjadhtzIPH1r6gvng.png), obviously malnourished and the sound it makes as it rubs against his jeans and tries to meow is borderline pathetic.

"Oh hey," Stiles says. "He likes you too."

He says it like it's a surprise which, to be fair, it sorta is. Cats and werewolves don't get along all that great. Obviously nobody's told this cat, though, which becomes evident when it gives up waiting for Derek to pay it attention and just starts clawing its way up his fucking leg.

"Whoa, hey! Bro!" Stiles yelps, leaping forward to snag the cat off Derek's thigh. "No climbing the killer werewolf, have some self-preservation instincts, dude."

"I wouldn't-" Derek stops, because Stiles is looking at him like whatever he's about to say is going to be remembered and brought up later. Who says Derek doesn't learn? "Why do you have a cat?"

"His name's Bro," Stiles says proudly, cradling the thing against his chest. "He an I are destined for each other."

Derek rolls his eyes. "Deaton gave it to you, didn't he?"

"He was gonna give him to the shelter!" Stiles says, hefting the cat up higher, like the floor is poising to snatch the thing away. The cat takes the opportunity to press its head up under Stiles' chin and start purring. "Do you know what _happens_ to cats in shelters?"

Derek doesn't tell Stiles he's ridiculous, only because he's pretty sure Stiles already knows. What he does do is snag the cat out of Stiles' arms so he can steer Stiles over towards the computer. "Fine, whatever," Derek says. "Did you find anything?"

The cat ends up perching on Derek's shoulder as they work, furry little body warm and disconcertingly comforting as it purrs against his neck. He's pretty aware that he's losing whatever vestiges of badassery he had left with Stiles, but the little spasms that cross Stiles' face whenever he looks over at him are worth it.

Stiles cracks when Bro—oh god, Derek's already started with the name—makes another of his half meep meow sounds and smooshes his face against Derek's jaw.

"Oh my god, dude," Stiles says, voice strangled. "That's not even fair." His fingers edge towards his phone. "Can I just-"

Derek snatches the phone out of his reach. "No way."

"Oh come on!" Stiles says. "One picture! You don't know what you _l_ _ook_ like right now!"

Derek knows exactly what he looks like, and it's something he doesn't need Erica or Isaac getting a hold of, _thanks_.

Derek reaches up to scratch Bro behind one ear before carefully dislodging him and Stiles frowns. "You're not staying?"

"Can't," Derek says, setting Bro down on the bed so he can lean over pull Stiles into a kiss. It's supposed to be a goodbye but Stiles plays dirty, snagging the back of Derek's neck so he can lick across the seam of Derek's lips. It's instinct by now to open up to him, an instinct that sees Derek groaning because _go_ _d_ – Stiles' mouth shouldn't be allowed.

"That was mean," Derek says when he pulls away. Stiles grins, lips kiss-swollen and far too fucking tempting.

"Still gotta go?"

Derek groans, swooping in for one final closed-mouthed kiss before pulling back. "Yes," he says, reaching over to put Stiles' phone back on the desk. "Isaac's at home alone."

Stiles huffs but doesn't argue. They haven't spoken about it, but he's been over on some of the nights Isaac's had the nightmares. It's an unspoken pack rule that Isaac isn't left alone overnight.

As he makes his way over to the window, Derek pauses to scratch Bro on the back of the neck and consciously ignores the sound of Stiles' camera phone going off behind him.

* * *

When he gets back to his car, Derek pulls out his phone and tries to download Taylor Swift's latest album only to fumble and [accidentally buy her whole damn discography](http://media.tumblr.com/20f7047cb069ccd613ef7f0b015b99a3/tumblr_inline_midbpooyi71r6gvng.png). It really should have been the first hint that everything was going to go to hell.

* * *

People start dying. Doctors can't make sense of it – these healthy, young men and women just suddenly keeling over from exhaustion. But then they wouldn't.

Derek knows his territory by now. Knows when something's invading it. The careful prickle at the base of his spine combined with glimpses of something canine streaking through the woods is enough for him to figure the deaths aren't normal. And if he's figured it out, it'll only be a matter of time before Argent does. To say hunters aren't really discerning when the word 'canine' comes into play would be an understatement.

The pack has fallen into its usual routine—research and patrol—but it's been three weeks and another body's dropped. They need to move on this, and fast.

Which is how Stiles comes to [catch Derek sitting in his car, singing along to _Today Was a Fairytale_](http://media.tumblr.com/1587d6d3e8cf9879649659005404ff48/tumblr_inline_mj7gs3GUB51r6gvng.png) and fuck, shit, goddamn _a_ _ss_ -

Derek scrambles for the stereo, all but punching it in his haste to switch the song but—fuck his life—he's got the whole goddamn playlist queued and it just skips to _You Belong With Me_.

"Oh my god," Stiles says, voice full of breathless disbelief.

Derek groans and hits the power, cutting the car into silence and very deliberately doesn't look at Stiles, even when Stiles finally unfreezes and pulls open the passenger side door to slide in.

Bro clambers over onto Derek's lap and it's slightly ridiculous how used to that Derek is by now.

Stiles has had Bro for going on two weeks now and they'd all learned fast that where Stiles goes, Bro follows. Stiles has tried everything short of duct-taping the damn cat to the radiator to get him to stay home but Bro somehow manages to find his way out and to wherever Stiles happens to be at any given time. He's a small, furry, Stiles-seeking missile.

Derek scratches Bro behind his little pointed ears and takes comfort in the entirely nonjudgmental purr that elicits.

"I just-" Derek risks a glance over to find Stiles looking at him like he's a goddamn unicorn. Stiles clears his throat. "You're gonna have to give me a bit of time to compile all the jokes I'm gonna need to make on this one."

Derek sighs and starts the car.

* * *

Stiles had been the one to spot the pattern, which is entirely unsurprising considering the older he gets, the more he's turning into a damn cop.

When they pull up to the line for [the drive-in](http://media.tumblr.com/137a68eb1cf0afacfb4fb7153c7251e9/tumblr_inline_mj7gwfwD6N1r6gvng.png), Derek can't help but raise one eyebrow because seriously? "Seriously?" he says.

"Every single victim was here within days of their death," Stiles says, bouncing slightly in his seat. Derek can't tell if he's more excited at the prospect of grizzly murder or the frankly terrifying eighties theme the whole drive-in has going. Probably both.

Speaking of.

"Is this why you look like the Breakfast Club threw up all over your legs?" Derek says.

Stiles huffs, smoothing his hands down over the [terrifyingly garish aqua skinny jeans](http://media.tumblr.com/41a5c2bcc60f78c54c8160e7b85f7fa5/tumblr_inline_mj0ish6bkx1r6gvng.png). "It's _in theme_ , thank you," he says. "Not all of us can pull off the Danny Zuko look without effort."

"Grease was set in the fifties," Derek says, handing money out the window to the girl in the ticket booth. She's Filipino and pretty, even behind her tragic eighties perm.

"It shouldn't surprise me that you know that," Stiles says. "Being America's sweetheart and all."

* * *

They're thirty minutes into the movie when Stiles cracks, hand slipping over onto Derek's thigh with all the subtlety of a brick to the face.

Derek snorts, but doesn't move away. "We're on a hunt," he says, flicking a piece of popcorn at Stiles. It bounces off Stiles' shoulder and into the backseat where Bro pounces on it.

Stiles grins, eyes never leaving the movie screen as his hand inches upwards. "We're undercover," he says. "Who comes to a drive-in and _doesn't_ mess around. I'm allaying suspicion."

Derek sucks in a breath when Stiles scrapes blunt nails over the inseam of his jeans, feeling his legs fall open without any input from his brain what-so-fucking ever. "Stiles-"

The sharp tapping on his window makes him jump so violently he spills popcorn all over the front seat, which in turn, makes Stiles start _ca_ _ckling_. Derek glares at Stiles as he winds down the window, turning a smile on the poor girl blushing like a goddamn stop sign outside.

"Sorry," she says, and Derek recognises the perm before the face. "I think I short-changed you. Before."

Derek's takes the cash she passes through the window and tries not to feel too grateful that he's not the only one blushing. "Thanks," he says, and the girl ducks her head and practically _runs_ from the car. Not soon enough, though. Derek catches her scent like a slap in the face – her very non-human scent.

Stiles snorts. "That's the second time we've been [cock-blocked](http://media.tumblr.com/0a25690f3e8ed5ea8ae9832d91576afe/tumblr_inline_midbkgaSoW1r6gvng.png) in a row," he says. "[Fridays are cursed](http://media.tumblr.com/e29fc67832cf6a4ff8ddd537299d0ab9/tumblr_inline_mj0itv0qYk1r6gvng.png)."

* * *

It's called an Aswang, something Stiles laughs about the whole time it takes Derek to dig the unmarked grave five miles into the reserve.

* * *

It takes three Fridays before Derek works out that anything's wrong. Which probably says way too much about the state of his life normally.

The Friday after the drive-in, Derek [accidentally food poisons everyone](http://media.tumblr.com/0a25690f3e8ed5ea8ae9832d91576afe/tumblr_inline_midbkgaSoW1r6gvng.png). The Friday following that, he almost [burns down Stiles' kitchen](http://media.tumblr.com/0a25690f3e8ed5ea8ae9832d91576afe/tumblr_inline_midbkgaSoW1r6gvng.png) trying to make toast. When he buys Stiles wildberry pie to say sorry, Stiles is rushed to the emergency room because—fuck absolutely everything—[Stiles is allergic](http://media.tumblr.com/ca64b19770655f5e3c1f2ef9f09e4483/tumblr_inline_midbotPGPQ1r6gvng.png) to strawberries.

All of this is nothing, of course, to the night [Derek walks in on the Sheriff in the shower](http://media.tumblr.com/63922dc5e780a58efab3d52188bf0339/tumblr_inline_midbmsEO9O1r6gvng.png).

He'd been after the first aid kit, coming up second best in a game of tug with Bro. For whatever reason, the cat's scratches don't heal as well as other wounds and Derek's learned the hard way how much antiseptic stings. It'd been nothing to bang into the bathroom, bitching to Stiles in the shower about his damn cat. And really, everything might have been salvageable except he'd paused on his way out to pet Stiles'— _oh god_ —ass through the shower curtain.

It wasn't until he'd made it back to the room to find Stiles sitting on the bed that he'd realised what happened. Derek had never calculated distances to state borders so fast before in his _life_.

On the bright side, the sharp clarity of panic had been enough for him to see the pattern.

"You're saying Fridays are cursed," Stiles says, scratching Bro's belly where he's sprawled all over his lap.

Derek growls. "No Stiles, you said it," he says. "Just like you said I probably listen to Taylor Swift."

"You're blaming _me_ for your awful taste in music?" Stiles looks more affronted with that than the curse thing. " _Dude_."

Derek throws his hands in the air. "Why would I listen to Taylor Swift, Stiles?"

"Because you're a freak?" Stiles says. "And stop saying my name!"

"S- [_Sweetheart_](http://media.tumblr.com/1b9fb853e042c1a98b4681b914700931/tumblr_inline_midbqutRNK1r6gvng.png)-" Derek stops, wide eyes meeting Stiles' and no, _oh god_ -

"Holy crap," Stiles says. "I'm a freaking wizard."

* * *

"You're not a wizard," Deaton says, folding a crisp, white surgery blanket. "You have, however, adopted a witch's familiar."

Stiles gapes and Derek has to stop himself from jolting too hard in surprise, mostly because Bro's currently perched on his shoulder like he owns it and holy _shit_.

"Bro?" Stiles says, incredulous. " _My_ Bro?"

"I didn't realise until a couple of days ago," Deaton says. "The Stonewall Coven put the word out that the familiar of a recently deceased member had gone missing."

Derek reaches up and scratches Bro under the chin. Not a stray then, at least. Which explains why he's such a damn pushover. Derek's never met a cat that hasn't hissed and run away from him, but he's pretty sure regular cats don't spend ninety percent of their time trying to meld their faces with your jaw either.

"What does that mean?" Stiles asks. Derek feels him edge closer, fingers hooking up Derek's back, probably to curl around Bro's tail and it's only then that Derek realises that the solution to their problems might be _giving Bro_ _away_. It's disconcerting as hell how not well that sits with him.

Deaton looks between the two of them and smiles. "Don't worry," he says. "They couldn't take Bro away if they wanted to." Derek tries and fails not to sigh with fucking audible relief and Deaton ticks a knowing look at him. "He's imprinted on Stiles now," he says. "'Til death do they part."

Stiles grins as Bro uncurls himself from Derek's shoulder and steps lightly over to his, clawing down his shirt until Stiles crooks his arm around the little furry body. The whole process is so natural Derek has to wonder how the fuck he didn't realise there was something weird going on with Bro from the start.

Stiles elbows Derek. "I told you we were soul mates," he says.

Derek snorts. "Sure [_Pumpkin_](http://media.tumblr.com/1b9fb853e042c1a98b4681b914700931/tumblr_inline_midbqutRNK1r6gvng.png)," he says, and Jesus Christ is that already old. "What about the magic?"

Deaton hums as he moves around the table. "That's Stiles' doing I'm afraid," he says. "He's always had the potential but now Bro is giving that potential focus."

"So I _am_ a wizard," Stiles crows. Derek can't wait to tell him that his wizardry caused Derek to molest his father in the damn shower.

"The correct term is warlock," Deaton says, and fuck Derek's life, of course it is. Stiles is already bouncing with excitement beside him.

"When do I get to start hurling fireballs?"

They're all doomed.

**Author's Note:**

> Come attack me at [tumblr](http://hatteress.tumblr.com)


End file.
